We will come back to this…

Wednesday; the day when I get shit done. Literally. My shit, dads’ shit. You get the idea.

It started with dementia dad (as always) getting him up and dressed but he surpassed himself today by throwing up… I lost my rag (sorry God please forgive me) because he attempted to throw up in his hand?! Wtf… yup you heard it. Anyway when he did eventually vom in the toilet he at least gave me the pleasure of listening to it all with the door open but he did remember to flush.. it’s the little things but I felt reassured that I had already eaten.

Anyway dad has a clothing issue akin to Mr Benn… some may remember said character, but in short he used to enter a cupboard/room and come out dressed in something else and embark on an adventure. The beginning part of this applies to dad but there is sadly no adventure unless you count the shizzle that takes place in that head of his? So dad has paid (they must have seen him coming) for yet another hanging rail…. which will eventually block the day light but I have been assured that it is needed (like fuck it is) and I have not assisted in his quest for said rail as apparently he’s asked me to arrange it and I have not done so; possibly as I am of a sane mind?!

Anyway I left dad in a panicy state, me that is, that I too may have dementia as I thought I had lost my car keys… most who know me know I love noisy things (stop it..!) but I have a cow bell attached to my keys amongst many other things such as hand gel.. it’s a rather large and noisy arrangement which is just the way I like it. No bell = panic. Some arsehole has removed the ringy bit?! Who are you?! They’re a twat who loves silence for sure! I will find them and when I do I will share with them my dislike to silence and said lack of cow bell!

Onto my next accomplishment of the day.

Now I have missed some boring shit out for you like going to the gym, speaking to the doctor for dad (post pukegate), going to the chemist where I queue for Christ knows’ how long to get more shit for dad, going to the bank for dad blah blah bollocks… but today I found my own car!! Bear with me… I can NEVER ever remember where I park my car. This started when I was pregnant and has continued. Infact I tend to ignore it if I am honest. I take photos, write it down but I still can’t seem to find the bastard car. Even when I had a 4×4 gas guzzling beauty (boo hiss from the green peace lovers) I still could not find it. I have spent hours of my life looking for various ‘lost’ vehicles. I have been late to school runs and work over the years due to my inability to locate the 4 wheels of joy but today laden with more bags than a nanny I found the fucker first time round… to which I proclaimed very loudly whilst laughing ‘I found my fucking car first time’. A passer by was so bemused I gave them to low down.. also to ensure that albeit I am wearing gym gear with birkenstocks, a coat and too many bags to speak of and a good bead of sweat on, that I am not mental whilst exclaiming profanities and talking to myself.

Anyway leave joyous car find. Go to dad to drop more medical crap off. Imagine my surprise to find his entire clothes collection which is pretty vast, strewn all over he place in some sort of attempt to fill his new rail. Lady friend was also present looking slightly bemused whilst trying to assure me that she thinks that this whole thing is a good idea when it clearly is madness?!

Anyway… as I battled with the wardrobe door in the hallway I found a snow shovel. No stick. Never used. I asked him why he had a snow shovel. Apparently I put it there?! Suffice to say I nicked it back, as I apparently put it there, and binned it. Again before the moaners jump in I can confirm that there is no handle rendering it useless which means he clearly pinched it!! From where? Who knows….anyway feel free to share the blog in the hope that others who are caring may see some light..

It’s not even 3pm and I feel that today may pass me by once again whilst wondering where the fuck Wednesday has just gone.